


Grease and Sparks

by BadTimesDontLast



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, College Student Seth, First Time, M/M, Mechanic Dean, One Shot, Seth works for Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 03:28:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9950408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadTimesDontLast/pseuds/BadTimesDontLast
Summary: A one shot based off a tumblr prompt saw long ago. Dean Ambrose is a mechanic who employs Seth after Roman adds some pressure.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a Tumblr prompt I saw long ago. I'd give credit for the inspiration, but I couldn't find the original post. (If anyone knows, please let me know) So, this is strictly a one shot since I can't seem to get anything else done these days. I have major writer’s block. I'm thinking I need a break from writing entirely or I need to find a way to get back in the game. Anyone have suggestions?
> 
> AU story, slash and smut coming in. Enjoy.

******** The air’s cool tonight. It thickly ghosts over Dean's bare-back. His senses are heightened, sweat seemingly keeping his body heat maintained. The surrounding air does its best to collect the droplets of perspiration, but the Florida air’s already humid enough. He isn't sure if it's the humidity or the sweat that's causing his hair to stick to his forehead, but it's the least of his worries. His attention is solely on one thing and one thing only.

 

_ It's one of those long, over exasperated days. Dean's underneath a silver 2010 camaro exerting more brain power than actual work. He can't figure out what the problem is. It feels like hours pass by as he stares at the grungy, mechanical parts facing back at him. The lamp he took under is dim; he decides he needs a new one soon or there's going to be a time he needs it and it'll flicker into death. He shifts on the surface underneath his back. It slides enough for him to see exactly what he's been searching for. _

 

_ The tricky thing about cars: so many damn parts and one over look could cost hours of the day. _

 

_ Gloved hands reach out to go to work, but suddenly, his head is spinning. His vision is blurry as he's pulled out faster than he could've thought possible from beneath the vehicle. _

 

_ “I hate when you do that,” Dean mumbles as his gloved palm presses against his forehead. His eyes screw shut, the daze clearing out behind hooded lids. _

 

_ “Yeah, but your reaction’s always funny,” a voice rumbles back. Dean lifts his eyes open to see a large figure standing over him. It's looming in front of the sun's harmful rays. He'd be grateful if Dean's eyes weren't having so much trouble adjusting and focusing. _

 

_ “Any reason you're interrupting my job?” He asks with a raise of his eyebrow. Dean sits up on the rolling device, leans into the car's raised grill for support of his back. _

 

_ Roman Reigns has been working with Dean at the garage for years. To others, Dean's ambition to open a place up seemed far-fetched. To Roman, it was, and still is, the smartest thing Dean could've ever thought of. Dean's good at what he does. No one can take that away from him. Roman only wished Dean didn't throw himself into work the way he did. Dean always smelled of gasoline rather than a woman's perfume after a night at the bar. While they did find time for drinking, Dean's never took anyone home. _

 

_ “Someone's here for the job. You know, the extra employee I've been talking you into getting,” Roman replies. Dean waits a beat, lays back down and looks to hide underneath the safety of the vehicle as if it's not tons of pounds that could crush his body at any second. _

 

_ Dean trusts the jack upholding the car more than he trusts people. _

 

_ The Samoan is quick to roll Dean right back. Dean rolls his eyes in reaction. His back thuds into the car behind him hard. Roman’s surprised the car alarm didn't go off by the mere force. _

 

_ “You and I both know we need the help. Especially since I won't be here for two weeks,” he says leaning onto the car. The jack supports the extra weight, doesn't shift the car downwards. _

 

_ “Sounds like two weeks of peace and quiet to me,” Dean retorts, earning himself a glooming stare. He may be on the floor literally beneath Roman, but he doesn't show signs of intimidation. He removes himself from where he sits and stands erect. Dean's got one inch of height over Roman, and it's noticeable in how Roman’s leaning onto the car. _

 

_ “Guy’s out in the front. Looks young. Go easy on the kid, alright?” _

 

The tips of Dean's lashes meet the dark circles underneath his eyes. It's been ages he's slept right, but after  _ this, _ he's bound to be sleeping like a baby. His breath comes out in short pants, one inhale after one exhale. It's almost like he's not breathing with how fast these occur, but it doesn't matter. He doesn't want to breathe as long as he could continue to do this specific task for hours on end. He plans on it. It already feels like an hour has passed, but Dean greedily takes more.

 

_ When Dean roams to the front, there's an entity that he assumes as the one who took the bait in the form of a ‘help wanted’ sign Roman hung up. A dark smudge hovers just above Dean's cheekbone, but it's nothing he's self conscious of. He's removing his gloves as he takes steps forward. The younger man in front of him turns from staring at a picture of Dean in front of the shop. Roman’s in the background, an arm awkwardly stuck out to wave. _

 

_ “I didn't agree to the picture. They just took it,” Dean confesses as he takes his place at the side of the other. He smells like cologne. _

 

_ “It's not a bad picture. Though, you're not smiling,” is the reply that makes Dean shake his head. Dean's never been much of a smiler. _

 

_ “I don't think I would've even if they told me to,” Dean says. They turn their focus from the picture ahead. The other's eyes look chestnut, but then a glint of the light above catches the color and they shift mocha. It's the kind of brown beckoning attention. _

 

_ “I’ve never liked pictures, either.” _

 

_ “Got a name, kid?” _

 

_ “Seth. Seth Rollins.” _

 

“Seth… Seth…  _ Fuck _ , Seth,” Dean breathes. His lungs feel like they might cave in if he doesn't get a proper dosage of air soon. He thrusts forward into Seth's receptive body and a whine sweetly penetrates the air. It's high strung and almost feminine—it’s  _ perfect. _ Seth’s mewling underneath him, crying out as every thrust in drives choked sobs from between his lips. He looks torn apart, eyes closed and glazed every time Dean manages to see the lids lift slightly.  Every time Dean manages to  _ force  _ the lids up. Seth clenches involuntarily, gasps as Dean pushes in harder.

 

_ The first day Seth starts work is when Roman’s nowhere to be found. Dean's livid when he learns Roman took his vacation earlier than expected. Turns out, two weeks translated into two months in Samoan. _

 

_ “I'm going to drive a knife down your throat when you come back… tell everyone Dean says 'hi,’” Dean bellows into the phone. It's the eleventh voicemail he's left Roman since receiving the news from his house sitter. Gloria didn't know Dean well enough to know disclosing such information would set Dean off. An admonition of his temper would've been nice. _

 

_ “Uh, is this a bad time?” Seth asks from the doorway. Dean's office is small, but Seth doesn't mind in the slightest since cabinets are overflowing with papers. It gave Seth the proper indication that Dean wouldn't be in there long when not working on cars. _

 

_ Boy was he wrong. _

 

_ “Aren’t you supposed to be at the front desk?” Dean completely ignores Seth's presence then, moving about the office. He's sloppily writing with haste across several papers. Something is mumbled and reaches Seth's absolute threshold. It sounds like “chevy,” “1998,” and “fucking Reigns.”  _

 

_ Seth decides not to pry as much as his worry is rising. It's his first day and he's finding his boss is a hard ass. It's a new city, small, but new for Seth. He moved away from his family for the first time in his life. Out here, he's on his own. It may not be his dream job, but he's working with cars nonetheless. Seth’s currently going to college, the experience is catapulting him forward. The thick anger obviously building in Dean, however, is unsettling. _

 

“D-Dean,  _ please _ … Oh God,” Seth grinds his cranium into the concrete floor he’s laying on. The ache isn't enough to replace the ache fierce in his backside. Isn't even close to being enough to the throbbing ache of his cock. He's being drilled so slowly, he's forced to feel every single inch of Dean. The only reason he's lasted this long is because Dean's refused to touch his cock bouncing with each steady thrust. The hard length inside of him twitches and Seth’s legs strain. They need to stretch back out, but pleasure blends and he lets his knee get closer to his face. He's folded in half. He's as vulnerable as it gets.

 

_ It's midnight when Seth sees the light still on in Dean's office. It's been a week and tension is still thick between them, but Dean's usually stalking out the front door by this time. Seth decides to test his luck and he reaches for the door’s handle. Fear drowns his system when he hears laughter from the inside. Seth opens the door and he blinks at the sight.  _

 

_ Dean's pouring scotch into a shot glass. His phone is resting between his ear and shoulder, and he looks up to see Seth. The glance lasts a second, but Dean seems to have made his mind up about something in that time frame. It's like Dean doesn't think. _

 

_ “Glad to hear shit's good over there. Listen, Roman, I'll call you back soon. Yeah… yeah… I'll try,” Dean lets out. He brings the phone away from his ear and clicks a button. Seth almost wants to apologize for intruding. His apology died right on his tongue when Dean speaks first. _

 

_ “Are you old enough to drink?” Dean's pouring two glasses. Even if Seth isn't, he's getting one anyway. _

 

_ “No, sir.” The shot glass is placed into Seth's hand and Dean shrugs his own shoulders. _

 

_ “I won't tell anyone if you don't,” he reassures the other. Dean tips his head back and the liquid disappears from the clear glass. A sigh of relief leaves from Dean's lips, his eyes shutting as he rolls his neck. It pops loudly in several areas, slightly intimidating Seth. _

 

_ The first ever drop of alcohol coats Seth's tongue. He's never drank before this. That shows when he holds the scotch in his mouth too long. He eventually swallows down the bitter liquid, a disgusted look on his face after. _

 

_ “That seriously your first time?” Dean's puzzled. He doesn't understand how it could be the first time Seth's had something like that to drink. _

 

_ “Strict parents,” he says this as if it would explain itself, but he's completely unaware of the fact that Dean couldn't possibly relate, “do you remember your first time drinking?” _

 

_ The question isn't one Dean expects. He almost wants to pour another shot thinking about his past. The reason he doesn't is because he has to drive himself home. _

 

_ “I was around twelve. Fridge was always stocked with cases and I figured no one would notice a few missing. It was the first time I drank. Also the first time I got drunk off my ass,” Dean tells Seth without looking at him. Dean's got this far look in his eye like he's not there anymore. _

 

_ He's not. _

 

_ The laughter Seth heard from behind the door couldn't have came from this man. _

 

_ “What happened?” Seth inquires after a minute of silence passes through the room. Dean keeps his eyes away from Seth. Nothing has to be said for either of them to know something happened. Something that wasn't good. _

 

_ “I think it's time for me to get home, Seth. Lock her up,” he replies as he puts the scotch onto the shelf near the lone book. _

 

_ Dean doesn't look back when the leather adorns his frame. He leaves out the door with Seth watching, bewildered by what just occurred.  _

 

It's searing how Dean drives forward and hits Seth's prostate dead-on. Seth almost screams as the blood rushes down to his weeping cock. He's filled consistently, trembling as Dean pushes in slower. The tip touches  _ right there _ where it needs to be, but then it's teased mercilessly. He's never felt this good yet drawn so tight as Dean's cock slips inside again and again. The well-endowed length feels as if he's going to be torn in two, but he doesn't mind it. He's so close, he'd take anything Dean has to offer at this point.

 

_ They're one week from two months when Roman should be returning. Drunken nights between the two revealed stuff from Dean's path, but never enough. Seth attempted to discover more when sober, but it's like Dean forgot everything he told Seth. That or he didn't want to acknowledge any of it. The first time Seth asks Dean about it is the first time Dean blatantly ignores Seth. From what he's gathered, Seth knows Dean's childhood troubled him. It's just that the two had to be drunk for that to spill out slowly into the air. _

 

_ If they weren't getting drunk off alcohol in Dean's office, they were talking about cars. Of all the things, it's the only thing that makes Dean smile. _

 

_ And it's not that Dean's unhappy with his life. It's that Dean's not happy either. He's just… there. _

 

_ Seth learns a lot just by hanging around Dean in the garage. Business may have picked up, but Seth still found time to spend with Dean. Over the weeks, Seth gets closer to Dean. _

 

_ For the first time, Dean has a friend that isn't Roman. _

 

_ Dean doesn't show appreciation through words. At first, it's subtle. Dean allows Seth to stick by him and talk him through what college is like. He knows he's bad at it, but Dean gives Seth advice about the people in the city, different areas of entertainment. _

 

_ He's had heaps of experience and for once, someone looked for his guidance. The first time Dean looks differently at Seth actually happened a few nights ago. _

 

_ Seth’s wearing tight jeans and he's bent over tending to the car's engine. Dean's staring longer than he should. He gulps down the desire bubbling inside his stomach, tries to ignore how his cranium's filling in lewd images. _

 

_ The first time Seth finds himself wanting to kiss Dean is when they're in one of their drunken nights. Dean’s rambling about how he lost his virginity to a girl named Lila who smelled like roses. After Seth insists, Dean tells the story. _

 

_ Lila and Dean weren't necessarily dating, but the label wasn't necessary. Everyone simply associated the two together. Their first time landed them at Lila’s house, her parents nowhere to be found. A boring, cliche, but you never forget your first. They were so young, they didn't know what the hell they were doing, but Dean eventually got the hang of things by his third time. _

 

_ Last night, however, Seth  _ _ did _ _ kiss him. Dean stood dumbfounded, staring forward as if he'd been burned. His eyes averted Seth's gaze, and then they went back to sad mochas. They looked as if they'd single handedly fucked up the entire world. Dean recognized the look because he's seen the same look in the mirror more times than he'd like to admit.  _

 

_ Dean doesn't have the heart in him to keep standing there. He's not thinking when he pushes Seth's hair strands falling to his face, and he's not thinking when he pushes his mouth back on Seth's. A quick peck made Dean's lips tingle, so as he slides his mouth on Seth's showing what he likes, his mouth sparks on fire. Dean motioned his lips and took firm control by planting his hands on Seth's cheeks. One tilt of his head and their experimental kissing deepens. His mouth tenderly molds to Seth's and it may not be the first time their lips connect, but it's better by far. _

 

_ Dean's tongue parted Seth's lips open. He surveyed every aspect and a sound resembling a whine slipped from Seth. He's never heard something so intoxicating. As they're exploring each other's mouths, at some point, the two of them end up on Dean's rolling chair. At some point, the two of them ended up kissing with Seth on Dean's lap. They stayed this tangled together until Seth grinded against Dean. Out of nowhere, Dean separated their lips and he clears his throat uncomfortably. _

 

_ Dean's gone that night and Seth doesn't comprehend why. The next day at work, Dean's nowhere to be found. Seth takes over as best as he can until midnight strikes. _

 

_ Seth’s at Dean's door. He's preparing to raise his hand and knock onto it. As he lifts it in a clenched fist, he hears a loud crash. A raspy yell follows suit. Seth moves to the left, notices the garage door’s open, but Dean's car isn't inside. It's blocking the entrance entirely, probably why Seth didn't notice Dean's hostility being taken out on what's inside the garage. _

 

_ “Dean…?” _

 

_ Dean freezes where he stands. His cranium doesn't snap up in Seth's direction. Without a care, he doesn't even look at Seth as he grasps an object from one of the shelves. _

 

_ “Dean.” It's more firm this time, but it still doesn't stop Dean from what he's doing. Seth is the physical barrier that does. His hands are on Dean's shoulders, and  _ _ that _ _ does stop Dean. Until Dean pushes Seth's hands away. _

 

_ “Get out,” Dean’s voice is sharper than the shards of glass around the floor. _

 

_ “Dean, let me help you,” Seth cautiously says as he gets closer without touching. Dean's intensity is increasing by the second and Seth isn't sure about what he's doing. _

 

_ “Help me?” Dean asks this with a dry humorless chuckle, “You want to  _ _ help _ _ me?” _

 

_ Fear drips down Seth's skin, and he nods his head unconsciously. He may have never seen Dean this angry, but he felt magnetic force pulling them together. _

 

_ “Come on, Dean, what's wrong?” _

 

_ “Do I look like I have a fucking sign on my back that says 'save me?’” Dean yells at Seth, stepping closer to him. _

 

_ “Who the fuck do you think you are coming into my life?” Seth’s back meets the only empty wall in the entire garage. The other walls are covered in shelves, junk occupying every one of them. _

 

_ “I don't… I don't understand…” Seth shakily spews, but Dean's hand is starting to hit the wall behind him. None of the blows meet Seth, but he flinches like they do. _

 

_ “You're here to make me feel… whatever the hell this is and then you'll leave!” Dean's breathing heavily when he braces his hands on the wall. Silence permeates through the air as Seth stares forward at Dean's head hung low. He doesn't understand what's going on, but as Dean's breathing evens out, the sad image in front of him is unnerving. _

 

_ Seth’s never seen someone so broken. He barely knows snippets of Dean's past, but it's haunting enough for Seth to know he's not handling this well. _

 

_ Courage musters within Seth as he raises his hands to cup Dean's face. Dean visibly tenses, and his eyes are raging storm clouds, but he stares into Seth's orbs anyways. The storms give way eventually and Seth attaches their lips and Dean groans brokenly inside of Seth's mouth. _

 

_ “I'm not going anywhere,” is mumbled into Dean's mouth. Dean crushes Seth's lips, pushes his body forward. He parts Seth's lips decisively, urgently, and their tongues are curling in a dance as if they've always done this. The actuality of it lies in how they've explored one another's mouths the night before. The familiarity is right where they left off, except it's hungry and they're not concerned with experimenting. They know exactly what the other likes. _

 

_ Dean murmurs something in approval when Seth's tongue slips under his and sucks. A tilt of Dean's head and the new angle provides deeper access. Both Seth's arms wrap around Dean's neck, and Dean's hands lift Seth's thick thighs. He wraps those thighs around his waist, utilizes the wall for support in holding Seth there, pinned between. _

 

_ Seth’s eyes are closed the entire time. It doesn't register on him when they end up on the floor. _

 

_ His long sleeved shirt drags upwards, the cold concrete meeting heated skin. Despite that, Dean's shirt is removed first. It's tossed aside among the glass scattered around. They picked a horrible place to be doing this, but all Seth can think about is being taken right there on the garage floor. _

 

_ He's pushing Dean's jeans low on his hips when a rasp elicits, “Bed's inside.” _

 

_ “No,” Seth gasps as Dean palms his crotch through the tight jeans, “I want it here.” _

 

_ Dean shudders on top of him, but he stands over him soon enough and huffs. _

 

_ “Be right back,” he assures. As he disappears inside, Seth begins to remove his clothing. First comes his shirt, and then he's frantically trying to get the skinny jeans off. The problem is his haste. Because of it, it makes it all the more difficult. He struggles for a minute before he manages to slip out of them.  _

 

_ Dean returns with a condom and a bottle of lube. _

 

_ Seth gulps back his fear and in seconds, Dean’s on top of him situating between his thighs, the cold concrete touching his skin. It's a daring contrast to Dean's overwhelming warmth. The items are forgotten about when their teeth, tongues, and lips clash together in reunion. Seth’s legs work Dean's jeans off the rest of the way until they're at his ankles. Clad in only their boxers, Dean realizes how far this has all gone. _

 

_ His head is too dizzy and delirious with lust to stop. So he doesn't. _

 

_ Dean pries Seth's thick (this kid's sculpted to fucking perfection) thighs off his waist in order to drag down the final article of clothing. Veins snake around Seth's length, liquid seeping prematurely out of the slit. Dean stares, thinks of all the things he wants to do. It weighs his head down, gains thousands of pounds in pure thought as if each one's crafted of lead. Dean keeps his head upright, tilts it to one side and decisively, he wraps his fingers around Seth's arousal. He strokes Seth lazily for the purpose of watching his face. Seth’s beautiful in how he releases moans, in how he pants and pushes his hips up towards the callouses of Dean's hand. Dean strokes Seth again, thumb spreading pre-cum over the bulbous head. Another shift of his hips upwards, taut body visibly tensing as Dean utilizes his idle hand. _

 

_ He doesn't recall the last time he's admired the physiognomy of someone so much. He wants to watch Seth for hours this way. He could, he really could. And he almost does continue to gradually pump Seth, but Seth's hand is at his wrist, stopping further motion. _

 

_ “Too good, close…” Dean wants this to last. He can't get Seth there  _ _ like this _ _. _

 

_ From what Seth could hear, he's not willing to look, a lid opens and closes followed by something sounding slippery. His heartbeat is erratic in his ears, blood rushing to both his cranium and cock. He's staring up at the ceiling, splatters of dull colors acting as outliers to the gray. One stain in particular looks like the silhouette of a man—Jesus Christ, the first finger slides into Seth and he tenses. It's foreign pressure, slightly uncomfortable in the breach, but there's no overall burning sensation. Dean feels around, runs circles inside of Seth, untouched walls sending a tremble through Seth's body. He's stiff as a board, and he doesn't realize it until Dean's voice leads his eyes away from staring at the silhouette-stains. _

 

_ “Relax.” _

 

_ It's great advice, but  _ _ how _ _ is he  _ _ supposed _ _ to relax? Seth’s trying to decipher what it means, how he subdues inner muscles, but then another finger slips in and this time, there's a stretch. It's barely there, but Seth's concentration on relaxing didn't act as a distraction. The two fingers begin working, scissoring inside of Seth, opening up the entrance. Pleasure outweighs pressure in minutes, Seth's eyes dilate, pupils staring randomly at the ceiling. All the stains look like blurs, focus failing to acclimate to its origin. As tense as he is, he slowly goes slack, a puddle of skin and bones on the concrete as he shakily groans into the air. It's delicious, overwhelming, but it's not enough. Seth’s looking to claw at the sides of the floor for purchase, but none comes. There's no room, nothing to grab on. He's on this roller coaster with no rest keeping him down. _

 

_ The limbs slip out of Seth cautiously and he feels immediately off balance. He almost says something, almost vocally interjects, but then he hears the lid again and this time he does look at Dean. Dean's tearing the wrapper of the condom with his teeth, but Seth tosses the blue latex aside. _

 

_ A knowing look is shared between them. _

 

_ Seth’s eyes are back on the ceiling, and Dean's settling in closer. The flushed head brushes over his stretched entrance, a hitch of his breath re-tensing every muscle within him. _

 

_ He manages to focus when the ceiling can no longer be seen. His mocha eyes stare up at darker cerulean, his thighs pushed past their limit. He's not this flexible and he doesn't understand how pliable he's becoming with Dean's chest pushing further. It’s the adrenaline he decides. Seth’s knees are near his face, a gravitating ache in the back of his thighs, spreading through his lower back. _

 

_ The thick head pushes inside and Seth's mind floats somewhere else. The resistance prior was intent on keeping Dean out. Dean doesn't stop feeding Seth inch after inch until the weight of his balls rest against Seth's ass. There's the burning stretch he's been anticipating. _

 

_ Seth’s hands maneuver underneath Dean's arms and plant palm down on Dean's back. He's stretched to the brim, cockhead resting deep inside to have Seth's length twitch between them. “I… I've n-never…” he somehow manages. He's never felt so full in his entire life. But Dean kisses him, passionately still as if he's known from the beginning, as if he's always known. _

 

_ He didn't, probably should've asked, but he's not surprised. _

 

_ The burning doesn't subside, but Seth's whispering for Dean so needily that it doesn't matter anymore. Minutes feel  _ _ endless _ _ and if Dean doesn't start moving soon, he's going to black out from deprivation. Dean doesn't move for seconds on end. And then, he does. _

 

_ Seth’s keening cry echoes through the garage. _

 

Dean's in heaven. From when he first bottomed out, the tight heat of Seth's warm tunnel didn't compare to anything he's ever done. Perhaps it's due to the fact that there's more meaning to this than any other fling he's endured.

 

“Oh…  _ fuck,  _ Dean…”

 

Definitely better.

 

Dean's cock grinds like barbed wire inside of Seth. It's reaching the spot to make him see stars, but the angle isn't the deepest he could get Dean. He wonders why Dean chose this position in particular. The wonder dies when Dean presses feverish kiss after feverish kiss on his kiss-swollen lips. He's running high on adrenaline, his head hitting the concrete below every time Dean increases the pace. It's not as slow as when they began, but Dean's  _ still not _ touching his raging cock bouncing off his abdomen. Seth’s teeth are vibrating as he's pounded harder into. Sensation blooms across goosebumps forming on his tinted skin. He's in a cold sweat, perspiration collecting from taking that cock, but the air’s quickly attempting to dry him. 

 

Dean's having about the same problem. Except, with the force he's exerting, the heat’s winning the match. Dean's hips pick up speed, the sound of skin slapping skin obscenely echoing off the garage walls. The tempo of Dean's cock hitting Seth's trigger increases and Seth does scream this time, a wild thing as he rakes his nails down Dean's back in swelling red lines that could stand out in any darkness. Mania and relief replace fast removing stinging and Dean's hips stutter in reply. The pace before the nails dug in isn't returned to.

 

It's faster...  _ harder _ .

 

It's overwhelming, pleasure and pain inducing. Seth's voice would've delivered repetitive screams if it wasn't already overworked. Instead, he lets out choked out noises, voice strained, but louder than hell.

 

He doesn't give Dean proper warning when he gushes his release from his raging tip, but he ends up unlatching his hands from Dean's back to grab ahold of Dean's face. Chestnut meets darkened cerulean, Seth breathing wildly. He clenches tight around Dean's shaft, knows he's about to explode.

 

“Cum with me,” it's almost garbled, “Fuuuuck, Deaaaaan…”

 

As Seth's head snaps back one last time, an arch in his neck exposing the muscle collecting there for Dean's viewing eyes, fluid seeps from Seth's cock with no aim. It's sticky, thick, and he continues to shoot with Dean's hips not coming to a halt. Just as this happen, Dean finds himself stilling, and a moan permeates through the air, his own release filling Seth to the brim. Warmth floods through Seth's tunnel, leaving him slicker than when they commenced. The tension unravels hurriedly from Dean, after all this time.

 

Dean brings Seth's legs down when he manages to gain enough strength. Soreness radiates throughout the muscles wonderfully, and Seth feels stupid with deliriousness. The other doesn't bother to pull out, instead leaning forward to lay on top of him despite the thick fluid between them. It seems like ages as they lay like this, Dean's head tucked away in Seth's neck, breathing in the scent of moisture and wearing off cologne.

 

And something so distinctly Seth.

 

“So, are you coming in to work tomorrow?”

  
Dean's never laughed harder in his life.


End file.
